


paris in the rain.

by Humoresque



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Beginnings of Recovery, Drama, Gen, Mentions of Suicide, Support, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 08:08:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20672063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Humoresque/pseuds/Humoresque
Summary: "He was just looking at her, as if searching for something. She felt a little nervous, but once one little part of a much bigger truth was put out there, she wanted to say more.So she did."





	paris in the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> Heya guys! I'm back again with another Kingdom Hearts fanfic because I can never get enough of them. It's great inspiration while I try to get my mind back on track with my book and where that one's headed, so... have some more Namine and Roxas! 
> 
> Another song recommendation for this: Paris in the Rain by Lauv (though I was listening to a cover performed by HYE SUNG.) Here's a link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uDd0ICgsN4Y ; Clearly it inspired the title and a good chunk of the story. 
> 
> I also recommend: Brighter by Josh A and iamjakehill, as well as Suicidal Thoughts by Josh A and iamjakehill. Actually, just listen to every song by them. They're both brilliant. Here's Brighter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8lREpOIm3cU & Suicidal Thoughts: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFSg01HDqAk
> 
> This one's a bit more emotional, hence the tags. Trigger Warning: There will be talks of depression, as well as suicide. It isn't heavily graphic, but it's there. Just putting that out there. But to anyone who does feel affected by this writing, I urge you to please reach out. It can be me, a family member, a close friend, a complete stranger, anyone. 
> 
> 1-800-273-8255 is the National Suicide Hotline. If you ever feel like you're reaching that point, that line is always avaliable, 24/7, no matter where you are. Just please know that there's always another chance; it's never too late.

_paris in the rain._

Late nights were always the time within the twenty-four-hour days that Naminé preferred. The sun was sleeping and the moon took over its’ duty. When the sun was out, she had to interact. She had to be something she wasn’t, just to fit in. Just to be liked. Just to be accepted. For her, the existence known as Naminé was lie, at least during the day.

At night, she was the truth. She was her true self, someone who could be honest with how she felt. She was the drawer, the introvert, the explorer, the emotional. That was why she loved those late nights. Away from the light that forced her to pretend. Away from the ones who knew her, but truly didn’t. Sure, she would put the blame on herself for that, since she was never being honest with them anyway. However, she was afraid.

There were things in her past that she wanted to forget. Mistakes that cost her lasting psychological damage. Actions that caused her to shy away from her real self and create this fake persona, all for the sake of having a _sense_ of belonging. For her, that was enough.

Yet she was only human, and humans burn out.

She started walking to the nearby park, a good fifteen-minute walk away from her house. She didn’t have to worry about her parents; they were never home anyway. She liked to go there on her more emotional days. Whenever she felt like she had to lie more than usual, she would go there and just sit. It was too dark to draw, so she would just sit on the swings and listen to music, all the while feeling the wind blow against her skin. Today, there was so much lying. So much fake laughter. So much conceding and accepting things she did not wish to accept. The sunlight was filled with lies, so the moonlight had to balance it all.

As she walked, she pulled out her phone to see a few text messages. Looking through them, she was simply reminded even more of the lies that she told. All the numbers of people who would drop her in seconds if they ever knew who she really was. The thought terrified her, so she simply added to the lies with each text. She felt like she was betraying the night by doing this, but what choice did she have? Actually be honest for once?

No. She couldn’t. That’s why she continued to lie.

The burning in her eyes signified the tears that were threatening to fall. Even in the safest time of day for her, she still felt pain. She was beginning to contemplate even going to the park now. Yet still, she knew this was the only time where she could be herself. She really needed it this time. There would be much more regret if she didn’t go. So, with a hard swallow, she kept walking.

After the expected fifteen minutes, she arrived at the park. She was about to let out a big smile when she noticed someone sitting on the swing she usually preoccupies. She was nervous; who was this person? What if they were a bad person and attacked her if she was to be seen? Again, she almost started to walk back, but knew the outcome of doing so would have just been worse. After all, given today’s events, being attacked and killed sounded a lot better to her anyway. With a sigh, she walked closer to the one sitting on her swing.

Once she got close enough, she realized it was a boy, one she already knew. His face was pretty covered up thanks to the black hoodie he had on, but the wild blonde hair was the biggest giveaway of the century.

“... Roxas?”

He barely even looked up at her. “Well, I’m not Ventus.”

Jokes. Even though the twins honestly couldn’t be told apart, much like their _other_ twins, Sora and Vanitas, each one had something unique about them that differentiated them. It was always something so small and easy-to-miss, but Naminé always caught on. Another secret she hid from herself.

“S-sorry...” she wasn’t sure what else to say. He sounded upset anyway.

“Whatever,” was his response. He still hadn’t looked at her.

Not sure what else to do, all the while fighting her urge to just walk away and cry in her bed, she decided to be bold and sit on the swing next to him. Using her feet, she pushed herself a bit, letting her body be guided by the force of the chains attaching to her seat. She still wanted to feel that wind. She _needed_ to.

She sensed a slight movement and turned her head to see Roxas finally start to look up. He turned his head towards her and his eyes seemed to widen in realization.

“... Naminé?”

She smiled. It wasn’t a big smile, but it was better than nothing. “Yes.”

“Damn... sorry. I was being an ass.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s okay! Um... are you... did you want to be alone?”

He just looked at her for a minute before answering, looking away. “I thought I did until you came.”

She couldn’t fight back the blush that adorned her cheeks at that. It was good that he looked away, because with her pale skin, she wasn’t hiding that any time soon. Naminé actually personally knew Roxas from her circle of “friends.” Out of all of them, she felt the most connected to him. She talked to him a bit more than the others. When she actually thought about it, she was closer to the quadruplets than anyone else in her “merry band of socialites.”

She was so lost in her train of thought that she almost didn’t hear Roxas speak.

“So what brings you out here so late?”

She blinked. “I could ask you the same.”

He look surprised. Even _she_ was surprised. To her, that was talking back. She _never _spoke back to anyone. She normally just let things happen, let things be said even if she disagreed. For her to actually challenge his question like that… honestly, she felt pretty good.

“Touché. I was walking to get some fresh air. Guess I got lost in thought because I ended up here without realizing. I decided to stay.”

“Lost in thought?” she questioned.

“Yeah. There are times where I just gotta... get away. Escape reality.”

She knew that feeling all too well. After all, that was the exact same reason why she was there, albeit expressed differently. Still, she understood. There was no way she couldn’t.

“So,” he spoke again. “I answered your question. Why don’t you answer mine?”

Right. She still had a question to answer. Truthfully speaking, she didn’t have to answer to him. He answered of his own volition; that didn’t mean she had to do the same. Yet, she trusted him. He was one of the only people she trusted. That had to count for something, right?

“... I had to escape.”

He tilted his head. “Escape? From what?”

“... Myself.”

He grew silent at that, and while she expected to see a look of surprise or even disdain pointed at her, it never happened. There wasn’t even a hint of sympathy in his eyes. He was just looking at her, as if searching for something. She felt a little nervous, but once one little part of a much bigger truth was put out there, she wanted to say more.

So she did.

“I... I put up this false persona in front of all of you during the day. The Naminé that you know isn’t the real Naminé. At school... well, anywhere I have to talk to others, I’m open. I’m pretty bubbly and open-minded. I’m social and I laugh just like everyone else. I smile big grins.”

She could feel the tears starting to form once again. She wanted to stop. She wasn’t strong enough for this. But Roxas was listening, and he was clearly attentive to her every word. Any indication that he wasn’t listening wasn’t there. That alone was enough to keep her going.

“... The truth is, I’m a pretty emotional girl. I’d rather be alone. I never smile as much as I do with you guys, and I wish I could say it’s because I’m comfortable with you all, but it’s simply because I’m afraid of losing you all by being myself. I’m plain and boring. I stay at home most of the time, just listening to music or drawing in my sketchbook. I’m not good around people, especially when there’s a lot. I’m not up to date with social media or anything like that; it’s not worth my time. Yet I research all these stupid things I could care less about, I pretty myself up with dumb, overpriced makeup stuff... I keep _pretending_, all for the sake of fitting in! And you know what? I hate it! I hate it, I hate it, _I hate it!!”_

She didn’t care that she was yelling. She didn’t care that the tears kept falling. She didn’t care that it was late and night and that her screaming was probably bothering others trying to sleep in their homes. She simply didn’t _care. _She cared enough and she was just over it. She was tired. She was done.

Roxas let her scream. He let her yell. Not once did he stop her. Instead, he lowered his head down, eyes closed, and just listened to her surprisingly powerful vocals as she kept wailing into the night sky. The average person probably would have tried to calm her down, tell her to relax. Roxas was not the average person. While it wasn’t a lie that everything Naminé had just said surprised him, it also confirmed something he himself had assumed, yet never had enough of evidence to back it up.

She was a lot like him.

Not in every sense of the word, sure, but they had more similarities than he thought. Both were seemingly empty shells forced to pretend to be something they’re not. The fragmented personas they had crafted, all for the sole purpose of fitting in, to not be _abandoned_, was a force much stronger than either of them realized. Of that, Roxas was certain.

He had admitted on a few occasions in the past that there was something about the pale-faced girl that interested him. Ventus had suggested that he reach out to her more personally, to get to know her better. Sora and Vanitas made kissy faces at him, and he very nearly gave them both black eyes as a result. Damn them for being so nimble and flexible.

Being one of a set of quadruplets, Roxas always felt lost. It wasn’t so bad when he was with Sora and Vanitas, because despite the two of them being one set of pairs, Vanitas hated having to share the same hair color as Sora, so he dyed it midnight black. Clearly, it’s a lot easier to tell them apart. And well... Vanitas has yellow eyes. Sora has blue. And Sora is more tanned than Vanitas is. So.

Ventus however... Roxas hated that they looked _exactly_ alike. There was literally no key distinction between them at all. Same hair, same eyes, same facial structure, same body type... same everything. Also, given how sensitive Vanitas is, he always had to match his “big brother.” Any changes to himself that Roxas made, Ventus followed. It happened so often that Roxas just about gave up in trying to find his own identity.

Until he learned about piercings.

It was more of an impulse move, getting his very first ear piercing. It was a standard one, nothing too extravagant, yet it stood out. It made Roxas more noticeable, more _himself_. Once Vanitas caught wind, he wanted one too. He almost did too, but the idea of needles anywhere near him would make him vomit. He was, putting it bluntly, a coward. A coward with a good heart, but a coward nevertheless.

Roxas lived in it. He enjoyed the notion of having something that Ventus couldn’t copy. So he got another one. And another. And another. Next thing he knew, he ended up with seven different piercings all over his right ear, with four on his left.

Oh. He also got tattoos.

They weren’t sleeves or anything, though Roxas wasn’t opposed to the idea. He simply got tattoos that meant something to him, in different places over his body. Some Japanese writing on his shoulder blade, a unique emblem of the “Nobodies,” his up-and-rising band, on his right wrist, and a semi-colon on his left. Each represented something important to him, be it motivational or simply depressing. Either way, they were a part of _him_, and they meant something only he could understand.

Needless to say, he understood her well. Their situations may have been different, but their hearts bled the same.

He looked up to see her still weeping, but not as strongly as before. She stopped screaming as well. She was messily wiping her face with her arm, her jacket sleeve probably being covered in snot. She was definitely not as graceful as she presents herself to be. He silently chuckled to herself.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her.

A few sniffles later and she moved her arm to look him in the eye.

“... Better than before I cried.”

“That’s good.”

At some point during her emotional rage, she must have stood up from the swing, because she simply sat herself back down on it. She didn’t swing herself this time. Instead, she was staring pretty intently at his arm. More specifically, her eyes were on his wrist.

“What is that? A semicolon?”

He startled. He hadn’t meant for her to see it. Truthfully speaking, he wasn’t actually hiding the fact that he had tattoos. If anything, he showed them off. But for some reason, he couldn’t explain why, but having her know about that specific one filled him with a slight sense of dread. Now he _really_ understood her fear of being abandoned.

He was quiet, and that honestly scared Naminé. Sure, he didn’t talk much regardless of the time of day, but this silence was tense. She was nothing if not sharp about others’ emotions. She could cut the tension with a knife. The way his body was slightly slumped over a bit more than before, the way his hands very tightly gripped the chains of the swing, and especially the bouncing of his leg. She’s watched him enough of times to know the signs.

He was panicking.

It wasn’t a full level of a panic attack, but if she questioned him further... if things were to escalate, there would be one. So, she backtracked.

“I-I’m sorry. Asking about a person’s tattoo... I’m so stupid and insensitive. Please, forget I even asked that.”

“No, it’s not… I’m afraid to tell you.”

That threw her off. Roxas, afraid? He was one of the bravest people she knew, despite being fairly closed off. That symbol meant something important, something she didn’t know. She knew what a semi-colon was; she took plenty of writing classes to know the basics. However, she didn’t know there was more to it than just continuing a sentence when it could have ended. The curious part of her truly wanted to know, but she would never force an answer out of him. Still… she was surprised.

“Afraid…?”

He glanced at her for a second, then looked down again. “You know how you pretend just to fit in?”

She gave what was assumed to be a “yes” under the sudden ill feeling she felt.

“Well,” he continued. “I pretend as well. This tattoo says it all, but I claim it to be something else.”

“What… what do you…?”

She wanted to continue, but she didn’t wish to freak him out again. She did not want to be the reason why Roxas ended up collapsed on the grass due to her urgency in knowing about something as meager as a symbol on his wrist.

“… You know what a semicolon is, right?”

She blinked. “Yes… it is used when the writer decided not to end a sentence, but rather keep it going. It separates major sentence elements.”

He chuckled. “Brilliant answer, Teach. But do you know what else it means? Especially in the sense of it being a tattoo?”

She silently shook her head. Her hands were clutched against her chest, just above her heart. She couldn’t say for sure, but Naminé had a feeling that whatever Roxas was about to tell her, it was going to shake her to the core. Better to prepare herself now.

Watching her for a moment, he let out a shaky sigh. It was as if he was fighting an inner battle with himself. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.

“You were right on the money. A semicolon does represent a writer or author choosing to continue a sentence rather than end it. In the tattoo’s case, the author is you and the sentence is your life. In my case…” Another sigh. “… I am the author, and my life could have ended, but didn’t.”

Silence. Roxas dared a look at Naminé, just to gauge her reaction. She didn’t react at all. It was as if time had stopped and he was the only one still able to move. She was blinking, at least. Then, amidst the silence, her tiny voice came forth.

“… The sentence is… your… so then, Roxas, you—I mean, you could have—”

“Yeah. I could’ve died, and it would’ve been by my hands.”

She shook her head. “So… the tattoo is—”

“A representation of suicide awareness. Sure, people get it without having that kind of meaning for it, but if you see someone with a semicolon tat, then usually? Either they contemplated and/or attempted suicide, had idealizations of it, knew someone who experienced it, or lost someone they cared for to suicide. Others get it simply to let others know that they care, and that they support the cause of spreading awareness. I just happen to fit the former and latter.”

She hated the fact that she started to cry again, but this time, there was no self-hatred coming from it. There was no fear for herself. It was shame in not realizing it before. It was remorse for not understanding the severity of the tattoo sooner. And ultimately, it was regret for not being there for him.

He looked a bit panicked at her sudden crying fit. “H-hey now, don’t… it’s okay.”

She actually looked angry at him. “It’s _not_ okay! You talk of death like it’s… like it’s normal for you! How can that possibly be okay?!”

He looked fairly stunned at her outburst. Another surprise he wasn’t expecting that night.

“I just… I mean… man…” He rubbed the back of his head, not sure what to say. “I got used to it, I guess. It’s been years, but the pain of it all still lingers. I’m still trying to figure this shit out.”

“Were you… were you alone this whole time?”

He wasn’t sure what expression he was making, but he was sure he looked conflicted a bit. “What do you mean?”

“… Did no one notice? And if someone did, did they offer support? Did they stay by your side?”

His expression was pained. He couldn’t help but look away from her again. “No. I didn’t say anything.”

“… Why?”

“Because no one would have stayed with an emotional waste of space. No one would miss me.”

Suddenly, Roxas felt his body being forcefully turned. Tiny hands firmly grabbed his shoulders and piercing blue eyes stared back at his. He was face-to-face with Naminé, noticing just how pretty she really was, even with tears running down her cheeks.

“That’s a lie, it’s not true!” She yelled in his face. “I would have stayed by your side! I would miss you! I… I would…”

She felt her legs start to give out. All the yelling she had done that night was wearing her down, energy definitely dying. With shaky legs, she allowed herself to collapse to the ground, hands sliding down firm arms to big hands and rough fingertips.

“… I don’t want you to die, Roxas. I don’t want you to feel so sad that you think death is the only way out. I don’t… want you to be alone anymore.”

He didn’t realize that he had also fell to the ground until he looked at their now-clasped hands. His eyesight was wavering, and it was hard to breathe a bit, but he continued to look at her. He continued to _listen_ to her words. It hasn’t happened in a very long time, but he allowed himself to do this.

He cried.

After denying himself the privilege to cry for _years_, Roxas finally allowed tears to be shed from his blue eyes. He was over trying so hard to hide. He was over pretending to be the strong one. He was over _lying_. Even if was just at this one single moment, he allowed himself to _feel_. His grip on her hands tightened as his shoulders shook. He let out a choked sound and began to cry harder.

Naminé was stunned to see him crying as hard as he was. Still, a part of her felt happy about that fact. For years, Roxas kept it hidden. All that pain, he carried deep within himself, never allowing another person to bare witness to it, even his own twin brothers. Yet here he was, allowing himself to show what he considering a severe weakness, and to her of all people? Yeah. She wanted to be happy about it, even if just a little.

Using the grip he already has on her hands, she raised them up onto her shoulders. He immediately got the message, and wrapped his arms around her. She did the same. For that moment in time, there was nothing else in the world. To him, there was only her. To her, there was only him. Two broken people trying to make it in a scary world where everything is out to get them, yet they can find some sense of solace within each other.

That, to her, meant more than anything.

That, to him, meant more than anything.

It had to have been more than ten or so minutes before Roxas could feel himself falling from the emotional high. He had cried it out, and while he was sure he could cry more, Naminé’s shirt was already soaked enough as it was. He used that time to tightly, yet gently, tighten his hold on her, sending a signal. She understood, and slowly started to pull away from him. He did the same, and they both took a moment to just stare at near-identical eyes.

His was cloudy, faded with the lingering pain that he had held in for so many years. The crystal blue he was born with simply looked dark, lost in a whirlwind of emotional tornadoes. His eyes wavered, still reluctant in looking directly at someone. They shook, unstable and fearful.

Hers was similar to that of a maelstrom. Her similar crystal blues were foggy, unable to determine the true shade. She was able to stare into his, and capture the hidden beauty within them. From hers, she was able to see a shimmer of light.

“Hey, uh...” he spoke. “I didn’t mean to, you know, cry. On you. I wasn’t supposed to do that.”

She gave him a look. “What do you mean? Are you implying that you weren’t supposed to latch on to me and cry, or you weren’t supposed to cry _at all?”_

He actually had the audacity to look sheepish. “Ah... well.”

She gave him a look, and it made him sigh.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I don’t want you to apologize.” She smiled warmly at him. If anything, it was the purest smile he had ever seen out of her. His heart couldn’t help but jump at the sight. “You’ve done nothing to apologize for, and you know it. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true.”

He smiled back at her. Granted, it may have been a small smile, but it was true and real regardless. Even with all the pain and sadness that still lingered between the two of them, there was hope now. Something unique and beautiful was blooming within the both of them, and while they may not have fully realized the extent of what that meant yet, eventually, they would. Their smiles proved as much.

Suddenly, Naminé noticed something wet hit her skin. She looked up and noticed the faint grey clouds that started to form around them.

“Rain…” she whispered.

Roxas looked up as well and let out a big grin.

“I love rain!” He suddenly shot up and raised his arms out, the smile never leaving his face.

She watched him, stunned, then stood up herself and mimicked his actions. Big grin, arms raised and all.

It wasn’t right at that moment where their lives suddenly got better. It wasn’t right at that moment where things immediately became right. But somewhere, they knew. They just _knew._ Two young souls, lost and broken, standing under the now pouring rain, were smiling. Clothing stuck on skin; they were bound to get sick. Yet they didn’t care. Nothing mattered more than that one, beautiful moment.

They could have ran home. They could have sought shelter from the downpour. Instead, they stayed. She spun around, giggling all the while. He collapsed onto the ground, basking in the feeling. Both felt like they were somehow flying, away from all the pain and sorrow. They found their escape, even if just for one perfect moment.

Somewhere along the lines, their hands found each other’s once again. That safe haven, that sanctuary... it belonged to them. Him. Her. They were safe together, they realized. They didn’t need to have known each other their entire lives. They didn’t need to be best friends. They didn’t need to be lovers. They were just connected through their hearts, and that was the strongest bond they could ever have.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a hope with stories like these: to become a reminder of the world to others. The world... life is cruel. We all know that. Some have it better than others. Some have it worse. At the end of the day, we're all human beings who feel pain. We all struggle. So I sincerely hope that, to anyone reading this, if you're feeling sad, or alone, or just... ready to end it all, please don't. I want you to live. I want you to stay strong, to hold onto that shred of hope that I know you're carrying. Believe me.
> 
> It took me four attempts at my life to finally start realizing this. I'm still struggling, but I'm surviving. Slowly, ever so slowly, I'm surviving. Just know that I'm trying with you. I'm fighting with you. I'm believing with you. I'm struggling with you. I'm hoping with you.
> 
> "Pain don't hurt the same, I know. The lane I travel feels alone. But I'm moving 'till my legs give out, and I see my tears melt in the snow." - Khalid


End file.
